A Reichenbach Rewrite
by Potters Love Redheads
Summary: A rewrite of the Fall, where John has a secret. 2 years later Sherlock returns. Contains Johnlock and implied Mystrade. Mpreg.
1. Chapter 1

So this is my first time writing a Sherlock fic, also my first Johnlock so bare with me. I haven't updated anything in almost a year and I am so sorry about that, I haven't given up with my HP fics, it's just work has been damn right busy.

I do not own Sherlock, Ill leave that to Mark Gatiss and Stephen Moffat.

Enjoy

Chapter 1. The Fall

 _The black cab pulls up outside St Bart's and he quickly jumps out, cursing himself for being so stupid. He needs to get to his husband, who he foolishly yelled at before leaving. His heart pounding he made to cross the road as his phone started ringing. His husband's name coming up on the caller ID._

 _"Sherlock, are you ok?" he asks worriedly continuing his hurried walk to the entrance of the hospital._

 _"Turn around and walk back the way you came." John blinked in confusion slowing his walk slightly._

 _"No, I'm coming in."_

 _"Just do as I ask. Please." John froze. His voice sounded broken up, like he was upset about something. Sherlock never said please, ever. Something was wrong, very wrong. He started backtracking his steps._

 _"Where?" he asked._

 _"Stop there." John stopped, looking around to see where Sherlock could be._

 _"Sherlock."_

 _Ok, look up. I'm on the rooftop." John looked up, dreading what he was about to see._

 _"Oh God," he whispered. No, this couldn't be what he thought it was, this couldn't be happening, not now. His Sherlock, his husband, his consulting detective was standing on top of the roof of St Bart's, standing precariously close to the edge._

 _"I-I-I can't come down so we'll just have to do it like this." Do what John thought._

 _"What's going on?" he asked shakily, eyes no moving of of Sherlock._

 _"An apology. It's all true."_

 _"What?"_

 _"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty." Fear gripped John's heart. God no, this could not be happening. Why was he lying?_

 _"Why are you saying this?" he demanded. He needed to know why he was lying._

 _"I'm a fake." He could hear his voice breaking over the phone._

 _"Sherlock-"_

 _"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs Hudson and Molly. In fact tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes." Lies, this was all lies coming from Sherlock's mouth, and he, he couldn't seem to get his mouth to work._

 _"Ok, shut up, Sherlock, Shut up." He needed to take control of the situation before his hormones started coming into play again, like that had earlier when he'd called him a machine, god he wished those words had never come out of his mouth._

 _"The first time we met – the first time we met – you knew all about my sister, right?" his voice was shaking._

 _"Nobody could be that clever." Without even a thought or a doubt he replied._

 _"You could."_

 _"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything I could to impress you. It's a trick. It's just a magic trick." Ok, now he'd had enough of this nonsense, he'd had enough of the lying._

 _"No, alright stop it now," he said as he started walking towards the entrance again._

 _"No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move." His eyes locked with Sherlock's as his husband's hand reached out to stop him, making John freeze where he was._

 _"Alright," he raised his hands in surrender, backing himself to the spot where he had been before._

 _"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?" No he couldn't be asking this of him, this was a mistake, an experiment of some sort._

 _"Do what?" he dreaded the answer._

 _"This phone call, it's um, it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note?"_

 _"Leave a note when?" he found himself saying, his heart frozen in fear, his legs felt as if they had been concreted to the floor._

 _"Goodbye John." No, no._

 _"No, don't-"but he wasn't heard, the phone already being flung aside. This wasn't happening, it couldn't happen. He couldn't let this happen he had to stop him, he had to tell him. He needed to tell him before it was too late._

 _"Sherlock!" he screamed. And then he was falling…falling…falling._

"Sherlock!"


	2. Chapter 2

So here's the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I was re-watching Sherlock the other day and shortly after was inspired to write this story.

I don't own Sherlock

Chapter 2

John bolted upright, Sherlock's name on his lips as he awoke from another re-enactment of the worst day of his life, just two weeks previous. Sweat clung to him and his breath came out in painful gasps. Tears began to fall down his cheeks as he sobbed into his hands. Two weeks of hell. Every night he would revisit that day, and every time he would wake up screaming. He could hardly bare staying at the flat, but leaving was something that he couldn't, wouldn't do. He saw Sherlock everywhere and it broke his heart every time. The man he loved, his Sherlock was dead.

His sobs gradually lessoned and his hands which had been covering his face moved to encircle his at the moment flat abdomen. Sherlock had been right, he was an idiot. He'd been so stupid, thinking they'd have all the time in the world, that it would always be Watson and Holmes. But here he was alone. He should have seen it coming, should have known something was wrong when Sherlock refused to see Mrs Hudson, but he hadn't seen it, hadn't seen the ploy that Sherlock was using. All he'd felt was anger, and his hormones getting the better of him he had yelled at him. He had called him a machine. John sobbed. God, he was an awful human being, he had insulted the one person he loved the most in this world, all because he couldn't control his temper. And now he was gone, he couldn't apologise for those words he had said, because he was never coming back. Those cruel words haunting John every moment of every day.

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep he slowly got out of bed, grabbing his hated cane to help bring him to his feet. The pain in his leg had come back recently, "psychosomatic", Sherlock's voice in his head supplied. John assumed that it was because of his grief, he was slowly reverting back to how he had been pre-Sherlock. He almost laughed at that thought. He now thought of his life as separated into pre and post-Sherlock, and God was his life so much better when Sherlock was around. With Sherlock in his life the days had seemed brighter, more enjoyable. There was always cases and post-case fun. Winding up Mycroft, and deducing Donavon and Andersons affair. It was the best two years of his life.

He grabbed Sherlock's dressing gown and put it on, it was comforting to wear and it still smelled like him, stale smoke, earl grey and his cologne. He slowly made his way to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. The kitchen looked odd to him, the table that was usually full of chemistry glassware and experiments had been cleared up and stored in John's old room. He didn't want to get rid of it yet, but it was dangerous leaving it where he could break it in a fit of rage or misery. He clicked the kettle on and moved to get the milk out of the fridge. Even the fridge was odd, he still expected to see toes in the butter, or a head just sitting there. Molly had come and cleared it out for him before they had the chance to go bad.

He leant against the kitchen sink, his arm's one again encircling his stomach. It shouldn't have been possible, but then since when did anything either of them ever do be anything else.

Like all male children he had been tested at a young age to see if he had the male carrier gene, it was this gene that allowed some males to become pregnant. There was about a one in ten thousand chance of having the gene but his tests had come back negative, something his father had been extremely happy about, after all he already had one gay child, he didn't want another one.

John sighed. Thinking about his father always brought him back to the last time he'd actually spoken to his parents. They hadn't approved of him going into the army and had kicked him out of the house after a huge blowout. He'd spoken briefly to them over the years, but when he informed them of his pending marriage to Sherlock, they had wiped their hands clean of him. Harry and he had become surprisingly much closer since his marriage, staying off the drink and actually getting back with Clara. She rang daily to make sure that he was ok and was coping. Of course he wasn't actually coping that well, but he was making sure he ate, when he could. Morning sickness had started kicking in, something he did not enjoy.

He rubbed his stomach, somehow the testing when he was a child had been wrong, because he was without a doubt pregnant. Nearly three months actually, and he had been the one to figure it out, not Sherlock or Mycroft.

He'd had a patient come to the clinic one of the days he had been working (there had been a lull in cases), the guy had come in for a check-up as he was worried he might be pregnant because he was a male carrier. As the guy had talked John had noticed himself unconsciously comparing symptoms. He'd noticed that he had been edgier recently, quick to temper. He'd blamed it on stress from the amount of high profile cases they had been working, and the increase in eating and feeling tired more quickly. Once the patient had left he had sat at his desk staring across the room at the wall, trying to put a stop to the thoughts flying around his head. It was ridiculous, he wasn't pregnant. Of course the voice in his head (conveniently it sounded like Sherlock), made him look at all the facts and he found himself staying after his shift to do the test. There was no harm in doing the test just to get the thought out of his mind. The result however was not what he had expected, neither was the next or the next. Five tests later he was panicking because he was undoubtedly pregnant, and he was worrying about what Sherlock's reaction would be. They hadn't even discussed children as they had both known that neither of them had the carrier gene, there had been no need for the use of a condom. Sherlock hadn't noticed, which surprised John, Sherlock noticed everything, but he hadn't noticed this, was it because he didn't think it was possible or something else? If Sherlock had known he knew his husband would have already blurted it out, Sherlock never could keep his observations to himself.

He'd wanted to tell him and was planning something for the next day, but then Moriarty happened and John waited, he didn't want to give him anything he could use against Sherlock. He waited too long though, if he'd have known what would happen he would of told him, would have told him they were going to have a child. Now Sherlock would never meet their baby, would never teach them how to deduce, never threaten their first girlfriend/boyfriend.

John quickly came back to the present as the kettle finished boiling. He quickly made the tea, wrinkling his nose at the fact that it was decaffeinated, caffeine was bad for the baby, and hobbling with the use of his cane he settled into his armchair. He placed the cane against the side of the table and took a sip of the hot brew to calm himself. He breathed out and looked around the room, his eyes immediately drawn to the leather chair opposite him. Sherlock's chair.

Had it only been two weeks since had last sat there? He closed his eyes picturing his husband in one of his usual poses, hands together steepled against his lips as he roamed his mind palace, looking for answers. He sighed moving his empty hand to push back his hair, it needed to be cut, but Sherlock had liked it slightly longer, he had said it proved that John was no longer in the army, not to mention he liked to be able to be able to put his hands through it.

Sherlock, it all came back to him. Even now his mind couldn't let him go and he found himself unconsciously thinking about that day all over again. He had tried to not think of it, had stopped himself from trying to analyse it, trying to see what he missed, but he couldn't stop himself. He needed answers, he needed to know why, because the Sherlock he knew would never have been even a little bit bothered by what the press had to say, would never had left John behind for no reason.

 _"An apology. It's all true."_

An obvious lie, Sherlock didn't apologise for lying. Of course he was able to apologise, but he would never apologise for lying because he usually did it for a good reason.

 _"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."_

Another lie. As John re-watched the memory something twigged, something he had missed. As Sherlock had spoken those words he'd looked behind him to his right. Why would he do that? Why would he look back, as if he was looking at something… or someone?

He wasn't alone up there! Someone was up there with him, someone who didn't stop him from jumping, someone who … encouraged him.

Moriarty.

 _"I'll burn you. I'll burn the heart out of you."_

Moriarty was somehow behind this, he knew it. How did he get Sherlock to jump though, he would never let Moriarty beat him, and by jumping he would let him win. There had to be an explanation.

 _"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs Hudson and Molly."_

Why would Sherlock say their names, if he knew anything about Sherlock, he never said anything without thoroughly thinking out his words. Those words, he named his friends, the people who cared about him and the people he cared …

Moriarty. He would know that. Would know who was closest to Sherlock, who he cared about, and he wouldn't hesitate in using that against him.

 _"Caring is not an advantage Sherlock."_

In this case maybe Mycroft was right, caring might make you a stronger, better person, but it also gave enemies a weak point, something to use against you. Moriarty knew this, he would have used Sherlock's friends against him, would have threatened their lives. Of course Sherlock wouldn't have wanted them dead, but he's been backed into the proverbial corner.

But Sherlock was smart, so smart that he would have predicted several ways in which the confrontation would have gone down. Where was his contingency plan?

His eye's strayed to the case file on the table. Sherlock's case. Greg had dropped it off for him, but he hadn't even had the heart to open it in the week that it's been there. He hesitated before reaching over and pulling it towards him, putting his now cold tea on the table in its place. He took a deep breath before flipping the cover of the file open.

Pictures of the rooftop were the first things he was confronted with. A picture of Sherlock's discarded phone, a bullet casing and … a blood pool? John frowned. Why would there be a blood pool on top of the building, and where was the body the blood belonged to, because from the crime scene photograph, he could see that the person whose blood it was could not possibly be alive. There was brain matter present, so that indicated a headshot.

The pieces were slowly forming in John's mind, while he may not have Sherlock's genius, he was by no means dumb, even if Sherlock called him an idiot most of the time.

So Sherlock and Moriarty were on the rooftop. He then threatens Sherlock, jump or your friends will Sherlock would have predicted that, he would have been able to have countermeasures in place. His eyes strayed to the bloody pool again. Oh. Oh!

The one thing that Sherlock couldn't have predicted, the one thing that he would never have even expected Moriarty to do. If Moriarty was still alive then the attacks could still be called off, Sherlock would know this, but dead. There had been a choice he'd had to make, the life of his friends and husband or his life. Moriarty had killed himself, knowing that Sherlock wouldn't make any other choice than the one he did. He killed himself knowing he had won.

But why wouldn't Sherlock tell him that, why the elaborate lie, it didn't make sense. He was still missing something, something big.

 _"It's a trick. Just a magic trick."_

Something was off.

 _"No. Stay exactly where you are. Don't move."_

Sherlock had not wanted him to move, had kept him in a certain position. But why? What was so important that he didn't move, it was like he was directing his actions for a purpose. But what purpose? He rifled through the next crime scene photos and saw his answer. By standing where he was the ambulance station was between him and St Bart's. But why would that matter, why would having him so far away matter?

'Because he didn't want you to see him hit the ground' his mind supplied. John shook his head, it could be, but that wasn't it.

The next photo made him wince. It was a photo of the blood pool left behind by Sherlock. Just looking at it made him feel queasy. He rubbed his stomach gently, bracing himself before looking at it again. And again.

Something was off. Something was nagging him about this picture. Sherlock would have taken one look and known straight away.

What was off in the picture?

The blood.

The blood!

John had seen plenty of blood splatter in his time on and off the battlefield, and with his time with Sherlock he had seen bodies after they'd fallen from a height. That was why it was odd. The blood, the splatter didn't match that of a high impact fall.

What was going on?

John frowned. He rested the file on his lap and adopted a Sherlock type pose.

1\. Sherlock had planned to meet Moriarty on the roof, the phone call about Mrs Hudson was a fake to get John away from there.

2\. Moriarty threatens the people he cares about the most if he doesn't jump.

3\. Moriarty is dead. But where's the body?

4\. Sherlock jumped but the blood splatter is all wrong.

5\. John hadn't seen Sherlock's body afterwards, both Mycroft and Molly had convinced him that he hadn't wanted to see Sherlock 'like that'

There was something about Molly too. She refused to look him in the eye, avoiding it at all costs since the fall. He'd also seen her talking to Mycroft, not odd as she did do the autopsy but it wasn't a grieving type of conversation, more like a worried one. And since when were she and Mycroft on talking terms? She was hiding something, and Mycroft was in on it too. And there was something else, neither had cried at the funeral. Mycroft he could understand, he was a cold-hearted bastard, but Molly, she was pretty much in love with him, she would have felt devastated at his death. At the time he was too wrapped up in his own misery to think on it, but now.

He mentally reviewed all the points, trying to make head or tales out of it. It seemed like all random pieces of information, but what did it add up to.

 _"You see but you do not observe John."_

Ok. So what wasn't he observing?

The ambulance building made sure that he hadn't seen Sherlock hit the ground. But he'd heard it, he'd definitely heard a body hit the ground. He'd ran to the corner, seeing Sherlock on the ground, and then he'd been hit by that biker, and he'd hit his head on the ground. The biker hadn't stopped to apologise, the biker hadn't … the biker. He knew him, or at least recognised the face. He was one of Sherlock's homeless network, but why was he there? Why did he knock John down, was it an accident or done on purpose? He'd stopped him from getting to Sherlock too quickly.

Why too quickly?

Then there were the people around Sherlock, they crowded around him, stopped John from getting too close, and then he was gone, on a stretcher. It was quick. Too quick.

The biker, the blood splatter, the phone call, the response team… Molly.

No.

No.

He wouldn't.

 _"It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me."_

If anyone could do it, it would be him. And he would do it, he would definitely do it, but why not tell him, why not explain after the fact?

 _"Moriarty's web is vast, it would take months, if not years to bring it down."_

The pieces fell together. The puzzle complete. A dead man walks unseen. Sherlock hadn't done this alone, Mycroft had to be involved, and with Molly's weird behaviour she was obviously in on it too.

John leant back in his armchair, his emotions all over the place. He was happy, and angry and extremely worried. Sherlock could be gone for months, possibly years. He might not even survive.

No he couldn't think like that. Sherlock would come back, he'd be changed, war does that to a man, and that was what Sherlock was doing, waging war on Moriarty's web, and for once he was the person on the other side, waiting for his soldier to come home. He would do anything to be there for him, and if not for circumstances he would be. But he had other priorities first. Their child came first. Sherlock would need him when he returned and they'd be there waiting to welcome him home.

He made to get out of his chair and the file on his lap slid onto the floor, the photos falling face up. He bent down to pick them up and froze. His heart stopped cold.

He quickly grabbed the photo, staring at it and he almost stopped breathing. If he was here, if he was working for Moriarty, then he was in danger. He knew that face, had dreamt about it enough in the past. It was a face from his nightmares, the face of Sebastian Moran, ex-military sniper. He was also the reason why John was no longer in the army.

His shoulder tingled in remembrance. If he was in London, if he found out about Sherlock, he wouldn't hesitate, and John would not allow that. He needed help, but not Mycroft. He couldn't know about this, about any of this. He couldn't do this on his own though. A plan began to formulate in his mind and the next moment he strode back to their bedroom, not even realising that he no longer needed his cane. He grabbed his phone, unlocking it and scrolling down the contact list, finding the number and pressing the dial button. He heard the phone ring and then a deep and familiar voice answered.

"John?"

"James. I need your help."


	3. Chapter 3

Wow, whats this a new chapter already. Honestly I've surprised myself on how quickly I've been updating, I've just been so damn excited writing this story.

I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Please leave reviews, I'd like to know what you guys are thinking.

As always Sherlock does not belong to me.

{Serbian}

Chapter Three

 _Before I met Sherlock, I was a broken man who was one step away from putting my gun to my head and ending it all. I had PTSD, a psychosomatic limp and was severely depressed. But all that changed after bumping into an old friend from med school, Mike Stanford. I never thanked you for that Mike, and I really should. What you did for me that day is unforgettable, because you introduced a broken man to someone who made my life worth living again. Yes, that was the day I first met Sherlock Holmes, my best friend._

 _Sherlock would call himself a high functioning sociopath, some call him freak and other less than savoury names. He was my friend, and he was brilliant, and amazing and an idiot at times, but people never really understood him, and I think that's where a lot of the hostility comes from. Yes it's correct that Sherlock never really had a filter, he would just rapidly spout out his deductions, hoping that the rest of the world could catch up. He would never stoop so low as to start any altercation, but he would give as good as he got, and he always got in the last word. I once told The Woman that Sherlock was Mr Punchline, he would outlive God trying to have the last word, guess I was wrong on that one._

 _A lot of people think that Sherlock didn't care, that he didn't have a heart, but you'd be wrong. Sherlock cared more than people noticed, he wasn't very open about it but it was there. His brother once asked me what I thought about his heart. He said that his brother had the mind of a scientist or philosopher, yet he elected to be a detective. At the time I didn't have an answer for him, but I think I do now._

 _Yes Sherlock was smart, he was smarter than anyone I had ever met, and he could have been working in the top labs researching cures for cancer but instead he elected to become a detective, to help solve the crimes that Scotland Yard couldn't, to bring the truth to light and bring the victims and their family's justice. He was the most human human being I have ever met, and he had the biggest heart of anyone I have ever known._

 _He once told me not to make people into heroes because they didn't exist and if they did, he wouldn't be one. I have to disagree with him, because he saved me and I have never been so grateful to have known him for the time I did, to allow me to be a part of his world._

 _Ignore everything the papers say about him, their wrong. Sherlock was a great man, a good one. He never lied, never cheated about anything he did. All his deductions were right, some people just couldn't see past their jealousy. Believe what you will, but nothing anyone says can change my mind._

 _Sherlock Holmes was real. Everything he did was real. He was not a fake._

 _I BELIEVE IN SHERLOCK HOLMES_

2 Years Later

 **Somewhere in Serbia**

The cell was dark and dank (well you wouldn't expect a cell to be light and airy now would you), the blackness of the room only punctured by a small lamp. In the center of the room a bedraggled man was tied to a chair, his arms pulled to the sides with chains and his head hanging limp, long hair covering his face. His bare torso was covered in bruises and scratches. A tall bald man was laying into him with his fists.

His interrogator spat at him, sparing a glance at his companion who was sitting further back in the room, shrouded in the darkness. The interrogator picked up a short metal pipe, and rounded on the prisoner once more.

{"You broke in here for a reason. Just tell us why and you can sleep. Remember sleep." The captured man murmured something making the interrogator lean closer to hear his mumbled words. The interrogators companion leaned forward in his chair.

{"Well? What did he say?"}

The other man glanced at him in confusion.

{"He said that I used to work in the navy … where I had an unhappy love affair, that the electricity isn't working in my bathroom … and that my wife is having an affair with our neighbour. The coffin maker. And if I go home now I'll catch them at it."} The man was getting angrier as he repeated the imprisoned man's words. {I knew there was something going on!"} The man quickly rushed out of the room leaving the prisoner with his companion.

The prisoner groaned in pain, trying to release some of the tension in his shoulders from being imprisoned for so long.

{"So my friend, now it's just you and me."} The man stood up, disguised in a heavy coat and hood. {"You have no idea the trouble it took to find you."}

The man stepped closer to the prisoner before grabbing the long hair and leaning forward to speak in his ear. "It's time to go home little brother, you have people waiting for you, time to head back to Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes."

Under the long bedraggled hair Sherlock managed a small painful smile.

He was going home.

Back to Baker Street.

Back to John.

 **Surrey, England**

John smiled as he handed Greg one of the tea's he was carrying from the kitchen, before sitting in his armchair facing the television. On the screen a news broadcast was being shown.

 _"that after extensive police investigations, Richard Brook did indeed prove to be the creation of James Moriarty. Amidst unprecedented scenes, there was an uproar in court as Sherlock Holmes was vindicated and cleared of all suspicions, but sadly this all comes too late for the detective who became something of a celebrity two years ago."_

John felt Greg's gaze on him.

"You know none of this would have been possible without you. You started the #I believe in Sherlock Holmes movement, not to mention all the evidence you managed to gather on Moriarty. I don't know how you managed it, and I probably don't want to know, but I'm glad you did."

John smiled.

"I didn't start the movement, I just asked the homeless network to spread it around a little bit, next thing I know it's a twitter thing and #IBISH is being spray painted around the city. The info on Moriarty is a bit harder to explain, let's just say I have some very good friends."

Greg laughed.

"Very good friends, and you did start the movement. It was the last thing you wrote on your blog, a lot of people were very moved by that, it touched the hearts of so many. It was that blog which started everything, started to make people realise that maybe not everything they read in the paper is true. You did a good thing John."

"He's coming back Greg, Mycroft will bring him back and this is one less thing he has to worry about. He needs to be free to do what he's supposed to do, be the consulting detective again. I needed to prove without a doubt that Sherlock was innocent, that info just helped to solidify it." Greg gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, well when Mycroft answered your phone call that night, I thought someone had died. He went as pale as the sheets. The fact that he didn't even question your intelligence before rushing out of bed was enough to tell me something had gone wrong on Sherlock's end. I remember he gave me this look before I left, it was the one where he says we'll talk about this later. I think he's finally cottoned on to the fact that I know more than I've been letting on. I think I've done well to hide it from him for the last two years, something I am totally proud about." John laughed causing Greg to join in, both laughing for a good minute. "Not that I've got anything on you though, I mean you've hidden successfully from the guy for two years, yet both me and Molly are here at least once a week. Not to mention that you've been keeping an eye of Sherlock's movements, helped me on cold and hot cases and on top of that raised two kids. Honestly I don't know how you do it. You do realised he's going to have questions." John raised an eyebrow.

"Which one?"

"Both," said Greg causing John to chuckle.

"How long until they figure it all out?" John asked. Greg took a mouthful of tea, looking thoughtful.

"I think Mycroft will get there first, only because he has more information. I mean I don't know everything, which is good, there are parts of it I can guess, obviously I know about the kids."

"Yeah well only you and Molly know about them. I mean you've both been there for me since the beginning of this ride, you were both there when I needed a shoulder to cry on, and cases when I was bored out of my mind. I think the most important time was at the moment when I really needed Sherlock, and he couldn't be here, you both were to help bring my children into the world. Without your help I'm not sure I would have coped."

"That's what friends are for. Mind you I can still remember Molly's reaction to finding out you and Sherlock were married and you were pregnant. I've never seen her so angry."

"Yeah, you and me both. It was lucky I managed to explain everything before she ended up ringing him and ranting down the phone. I know that if he knew, he would have come back, and a part of my wanted that, more than anything. But I was a soldier, I understood why he did it, I just hated being this side of things, I've always been the more proactive type, being the left behind spouse totally sucks."

"Yeah but you've not been totally out of the game John, your deductions have been a great help to me over the years, and let's not forget that night last year." John shuddered as he remembered what had occurred that night.

"He was getting too close, I couldn't have him anywhere near my children. I would protect them with my life Greg, they've been one of the only thing keeping me going these past two years."

"I know, I only want to know how he managed to slip through Mycroft's net. It was a close call, you weren't exactly uninjured when you got home you know." John smirked.

"It was a scratch, the first time we met he gave me a much more serious injury, course I returned the favour that day, though he definitely didn't recover from it."

Greg frowned.

"I'm not hearing this am I."

"Nope." John smirked before frowning and letting out a sigh. "I'm worried about how Sherlock's going to react. We never once discussed children, we'd only been married for a year before the fall, it wasn't something that ever came up. I mean we were so caught up in the rush of cases and the thrill of the chase neither of us even considered it."

Greg gave him a sad smile.

"He'll be awkward to begin with, most new dads are, but you know Sherlock, he'll adapt and I know he'll be a great dad. The kids already love him." John gave him a thankful smile. "You've done good with them John, their beautiful kids, well behaved. Mind you, can't mistake them for being anyone else's kids." John laughed.

"They haven't started deducing stuff yet, their talking is getting much clearer now though, learning a few new words. Of course they've started getting into everything at the moment, I've had to childproof everywhere. Sometimes I watch them playing and I notice how observant they are, they never do the same thing twice. That they definitely got from their dad."

"Well, I think their mum's pretty smart too, I mean you've gotten pretty good at the deducing thing." John blushed.

"I get by. Honestly I don't really know how I do it. I mean Sherlock he has his mind palace which helps him to work through things. I just have Sherlock. It's like he's in my head and he does all the deducing and I just repeat what he says, in a more polite manner."

"So your saying that Sherlock is your mind palace, hmmm. Well it may be Sherlock in your head, but he's not actually here. So technically you do actually see it all but your brain uses Sherlock to work through it."

"Yeah, I guess so. I learnt a lot from Sherlock, but I want him to be the one to teach our children."

Greg stared at him.

"You want them to learn to deduce? Are you crazy?" John laughed

"Probably, but then I did marry Sherlock. Talking about marriage, you and Mycroft. You finally going to ask him then?"

Greg once again stared at him before chuckling nervously.

"I should have known you would have figured it out. When you do that it really reminds me of him, though you usually have a more tactful way of telling people." Greg sighed and smiled. "Well we've been together over a year, I wanted to ask before but I want Sherlock back first. I know that he's been worrying about him so wanted to wait until a more stable time." John nodded, before looking around the room. Most of his belongings had already been packed up and placed in the moving van, there were just a few bits and pieces and the bedrooms to sort out. He looked at the baby monitor next to his chair, listening for any disturbances. Seemed the kids were still asleep. Hopefully they would sleep until Molly came and picked them up.

"Thanks for helping with the packing today Greg, I didn't realise how much stuff I had accumulated since moving in here."

"Kid's will do that to you." John nodded before stiffening at the chime of his mobile going off. He quickly reached for it.

SH Secured

Returning to London

Send Address. MH

John gave a quiet sob. Sherlock was coming home.


	4. Chapter 4

Wow,a massive number of people have been reading, I really hope your enjoying it. So yes Sherlock is back! This scene should be familiar if you've seen the empty hearse, (what am I saying! If your here then you've definitely seen it)

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.

Chapter 4

Mycroft sat at his desk observing his brother. Sherlock was currently reclined flat on his back having his face shaved. The long hair had been cut back to its' normal length and he was currently reading the paper. He pondered on what he was going to tell Sherlock, many things had changed over the two years since he had been gone, the most important one of those was the going's on of his brothers husband. It had been two years since he'd seen the man, but he'd obviously been busy. He had a few suspicions, nothing he could prove at the moment though. His phone buzzed, signalling the arrival of a new text.

 **519 Ridney Lane**

 **Surrey**

 **Ring me when he leaves**

 **We need to talk. JWH**

Yes they most certainly did. He had questions, questions that needed answering. He looked back up to where his brother was, then re-opened the file that was on his desk.

"You have been busy, haven't you?" Sherlock looked up from the paper he had been reading before folding it up and tossing it onto a nearby trolley. "Quite the busy little bee." He chuckled. Sherlock sighed, pain still evident on his face from his imprisonment.

"Moriarty's network – took me two years to dismantle it."

"And you're confident you have?" Mycroft sniffed. Sherlock glared at him.

"The Serbian side was the last piece of the puzzle. The only one I didn't deal with was Moran, your … agent had dealt with him. I thought you'd said that he had left the country?" Mycroft shifted uncomfortably.

"Our intelligence suggested that he had indeed left, I had only just received Intel that he was in the country when I was informed that he was no longer a problem. But you were misinformed Sherlock, it was not my agent." Sherlock's eyes snapped straight to him, sitting up slightly.

"Then who, and how?"

"The who I do not know, I was informed of where I could find the body by a contact in MI6. An as of yet un-named agent took him down, that's all the information I received. I do have my suspicions though." Sherlock gave him the look, lying back slightly.

"The body was found in a flat in Surrey. Post-mortem results indicated that his neck had been broken. It was clearly military in precision and effectiveness, whoever this agent is clearly had extensive knowledge of hand to hand combat as it is unlikely that Moran went down without a fight. What did strike me as odd though, was that Moran didn't have his rifle with him. Moran is well known for his sniping capabilities, for him to be grounded means that he was there for a target that was of personal interest to him. He rarely gets his hands dirty, although he is a capable killer. He didn't know an agent was on to him, unless of course his target was the agent themselves. Whatever the plan was, he clearly underestimated his targets capabilities."

"Who did the flat belong to?"

"It was one of MI6's undercover locations, I investigated into who had used it recently, I was only able to find their code name, 3CW. This was of course no use to me as there also seemed to be no records of that particular code name. That aside, at least your safe now."

"Hmm."

"A small 'thankyou' wouldn't go amiss."

"What for?"

"For wading in. In case you've forgotten, fieldwork is not my natural milieu." Sherlock slowly sat back up and glared at his brother angrily.

"Wading in? You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp." Mycroft frowned.

"I assure you I took no delight in watching them, as you put it 'being beaten to a pulp. I couldn't risk giving myself away. You're lucky I was there when I was, any longer and there would have been permanent damage." Sherlock looked at him oddly.

"Yes I did wonder about that, I had calculated that you wouldn't be there until after I had missed my check in time."

"Yes, well a concerned party has been keeping an eye on you, a far better one than I have it would seem. Don't ask me how because I don't know. I was contacted the day after you were captured, he informed me of what had happened and made me promise to do all I could to get you out of there, hence why I came myself. I knew not to doubt him so I immediately left arranging for transport, and of course learning Serbian on my way there. He has kept me appraised of the situation in England whilst I was away. He has managed what I was unable to do, he has cleared your name. You're a free man once more."

Sherlock looked pleased at this information, looking forward to breathing in the London air once more, getting the feel of the city back into his skin.

"And John?" he asked, pausing for a moment. A look of anguish was clearly etched on his face. Mycroft winced at seeing the sadness on his brother's face. "How is he?" Mycroft fidgeted feeling uncomfortable as Sherlock asked of news about his husband.

"I…I do not know." He watched as Sherlock's face clouded over.

"What do you mean you don't know, you know everything as you're so often keen to remind me. I asked you for one thing brother, one thing. To keep an eye on John, to make sure he didn't do anything stupid whilst I was gone and you couldn't even manage that!" Sherlock shouted.

"I did, I watched him constantly for the first two weeks. After your funeral he hardly left the flat, he didn't do anything. I had Gregory and Miss Hooper pop in occasionally. It wasn't until a month after your 'death' that I was told he was gone. The surveillance in the flat had been set up on a day loop. He did leave a note, said that he couldn't stay, there were too many memories. That he needed a fresh start. However I'm not entirely sure that was the real reason. I had no contact with him until out of the blue he rang me, and of course that leads us to now."

Blood drained from Sherlock's face as he put the pieces together.

"He knows." He said weakly. Mycroft nodded.

"I don't know for how long, although I suspect not long before he moved. I don't know if you read his last blog, but I think he definitely knew something."

Sherlock nodded, he had read John's last post on their blog. He hadn't known how close he had been to never meeting John, it wasn't something he was comfortable talking about, but that he had put it out for the whole world to see, that he thought Sherlock had saved his life that he still believed in him had meant everything to Sherlock. It had kept him going these two long years.

"He's waiting for you Sherlock. Don't make him wait any longer. There's a car outside ready to take you to him." Sherlock nodded appearing to be numb. "He'll forgive you Sherlock, you know how was much he loves you, how much you love each other. Just be prepared, he's going to be angry."

"Two years Mycroft, I left him thinking I was dead for two years. It wasn't meant to take this long, six months I thought, at the longest. I underestimated the size of Moriarty's web. The pain I've caused him Myc, he's going to hate me." Mycroft sat there stunned at the amount of sorrow he heard in his brother's voice. He hadn't called him 'Myc' since he was a child, indicating the amount of emotion that he was currently feeling.

"I won't lie and say he won't have questions, that he won't be furious. But he knows you, knows you better than anyone else, myself included. He knows you wouldn't have done it without a good reason. He'll hear you out, and he will forgive you. It just might take some time." Sherlock nodded.

"You've got yourself a goldfish," he stated smirking at Mycroft. Mycroft nodded his head giving Sherlock a small smile. "It's Lestrade." Mycroft chucked, he'd only been back five minutes.

"Go, your goldfish is waiting for you." Sherlock smiled shrugging on his Belstaff and wrapped his scarf around his neck. He then flicked up his collar.

"He's not a goldfish. He's John."

I hope you enjoyed this little bit of brotherly bonding between Sherlock and Mycroft, they do care about each other, they just have a weird way of showing it!

Please Leave me reviews, I'd really like to know what you guys are thinking.


	5. Chapter 5

So another chapter coming up for you guys, I'm planning to update daily until the story is finished so I hope you all stay until the end. This chapter is a bit short but it has a bit of backstory and some of John's thoughts.

Don't own Sherlock.

Chapter 5

John tightened the straps on the second car seat, making sure they were tight enough to stop his son from trying to escape.

"Now be good for Auntie Molly, both of you. Mummy loves you so much." He leaned into the car so he was able to press kisses to both the heads of his children. "And when you get back, daddy will be home." At these words, the twins started babbling 'Dada' causing John to smile. "That's right boys, daddy's coming home." He felt tears welling up in his eyes as those words. The last two years had been difficult, and without his little angels it could have, and probably would have gone a very different way. John shook his head, ridding himself of the dark thoughts that threatened to cloud his mind. He took once last look at his children before closing the door of the car. He turned around to see the pathologist standing by the car, waiting for him to finish. "Thanks for doing this Molly," he said giving her a small smile.

"It's no problem, Greg's going to be busy with Mycroft tonight, and you know how much I love them. You need this time John, you and Sherlock need to reconnect with each other. You'll both have things that need saying, and that means both of you have to be willing to listen to the other, with no distractions." John smiled. Whereas Greg had been his closest friend over the last two years, Molly had been his rock. Breaking the news of his and Sherlock's marriage had been more of a shock to her than him knowing that she had had a hand in Sherlock's death'. Once she's gotten over it she had realised how well he and Sherlock fitted, and with the reveal of his pregnancy and the threat to his life she had risen to the occasion brilliantly. Both she and Greg had helped him move out of his home, to this house. But more importantly it was she that had helped deliver both of his babies, she who had been there for a shoulder to cry on when things had gotten bad. As if knowing where his thoughts were she gave him a smile. "Don't worry John, you'll be back at Baker Street before you know it." John blinked, then laughed.

"You know, I've lived here for nearly two years, but it's not home. It's never been home. Baker Street became my home, mine and Sherlock's." He smiled looking back over the two years he had spent there with Sherlock and Mrs Hudson. He gasped. "Shit, Mrs Hudson. Oh God, can you imagine what her reaction is going to be when we get back. She's going to freak." Molly laughed.

"I think she'll just be glad that your back, mind you seeing Sherlock might make her scream. Thing is she loves you two like you were her own son's, I'm sure that if you showed her grandson's to her she'll calm down in no time. Babies always bring out the best in people, and she will dote on them." John nodded

"I know. I really can't wait to go back. Most of the stuff from the house is packed up in the moving van, the furniture is staying so just my clothes, the twins stuff and a few bits and pieces. With all that gone I'm hoping that Sherlock won't guess too much before I tell him."

"He'll take one look at you and know everything, you know how he is." John chuckled fondly.

"God I do, and you know what, I've missed it. All his deducing, all his experiments, his violin concerts at three in the morning. I fell in love with each and every aspect of him, yes he can be annoying and a bit of a prick, but I wouldn't change him for anything. I love him just the way he is."

Molly gave him a sad smile, before pulling him into a hug. She'd gotten over Sherlock a long time ago, knowing that John was perfect for him. They were each happy with the other exactly as they were, they didn't try to change each other as others would. And that was why she was so happy for John that Sherlock was finally coming home. Because John needed him, and Sherlock needed John.

"He's back John, and soon you'll see him with your own eyes and you'll know. Baker Street will be waiting for you, and so will all those crime scenes. You'll be jumping across buildings and after criminals before you know it, just like you should be." She gave him a kiss on the cheek before getting in the car and waving before pulling away.

After waving them off, John returned to the inside of the house, looking around his living accommodations of the last two years. The living room had been stripped of all family photo's which usually hung there, making the room look rather bare. He then made his way up the stairs to the bathroom to pull out his medical kit. He quickly checked it to make sure everything he may require was present, he knew that Sherlock maybe injured during his captivity, and though he was sure that Mycroft would see that his brother had seen the best care, he wanted to check on his husband himself.

Leaving the bathroom he paused before making his way across the landing to close the twin's bedroom door. He then continued onto his bedroom, checking to make sure the room was tidy. The bed was made to military standard, something John had never grown out of since being discharged from the army. He looked across the room to the only picture that he kept in there, the one on his bedside table. It was the picture of them at their wedding, they looked so much younger back then. In the photo Sherlock was stood behind John with his arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer towards Sherlock. They were only looking at each other, a look that John never got tired of. It was one that spoke volumes, it silently spoke of love.

The wedding had been small, as in only Mycroft and Mrs Hudson. With the threat of Moriarty still at large they hadn't wanted their relationship to be widely known. Plenty of people had assumed they were together, something which John wished with all his heart that he could confirm. At the start it had been because they wanted to keep their relationship private, afterwards it was because they were protecting each other.

John would say that Sherlock had him at 'Afghanistan or Iraq', Sherlock would say it was at 'That was amazing'. Truly the adrenaline rush they had after solving their first case 'The Study in Pink' was when they had actually started the relationship. Both forgot their 'I'm not gay' and 'I'm married to my work' and when they came together it had just felt right. Of course things weren't always so perfect, there were times when John felt inadequate for Sherlock and wondered if this was some sort of experiment he was running. Then there were the times where Sherlock felt John deserved so much better and wondered when he was leaving. It had all finally come to a head at their first meeting of Moriarty. Seeing John strapped to enough semtex to level a building had been the breaking point for Sherlock. After escaping the pool and had gotten back home they'd had slow life-affirming sex, the kind where loving words were spoken and they confirmed with each other that they were still alive. Tears had been shed and before they had reached their climax Sherlock had asked him. Asked him to marry him, to be truly his. To be together always. John had been extremely enthusiastic with his response and both had climaxed not long after, pure love filling the room with their soft sighs and moans. Basking in the afterglow John had made sure that Sherlock knew that he was never leaving, he could never imagine a life without Sherlock Holmes, and he still couldn't.

For two weeks he had thought that he was truly alone, those two weeks were the worst weeks of his life, worse than when he came back from the war. Only the thought of his pregnancy kept him drinking himself into oblivion. But that was in the past, Sherlock was home. He was alive and John needed his husband in his arms, needed him like he needed air.

His phone started ringing and he stared at the caller ID before answering.

"Hello Mycroft."

 **Thoughts? Please feel free to drop a review, you know that's what we writers live on.**

 **Until next time**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello my lovelies, here is the latest chapter in The Reichenbach Rewrite. The amount of people who have read my story has me really amazed.**

 **To my reviewers I want to say thank you, your comments make me really happy!**

 **There are only two chapters left and the epilogue to go. This chapter is a bit long but its a well needed conversation between Mycroft and John, so all the explanations about the two years are about to be revealed!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer : I don't own Sherlock, not even a little bit.**

Chapter 6 

"Hello Mycroft."

"John. He just left the building, I've provided a car which will drive him to your current residence. He should arrive within the hour," Mycroft informed him, causing John to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank God he's ok." He paused. "How bad is he?" he asked, feeling worried about the answer he was waiting to receive.

"He has a few injuries, but nothing life threatening, there may be some scarring though."

"I don't care, he never cared about mine. All I care about is that he's home and he's safe."

"I had no doubts John. It is the mental damage that I am worried about, he has been on his own for a long time, doing things that he was not accustomed to. He's not a soldier. He will be changed."

"War changes people Mycroft," John said softly, remembering his time in the army. "Sherlock helped me last time, now it's my turn. I don't care what he's done, all I care about is seeing him back in my life, seeing him back in his element as a consulting Detective and my husband."

"Yes, I saw your last post on the blog. It was… surprising to both myself and Sherlock, neither of us thought that you were that close to…" he paused.

"To ending it?" John finished. There was silence on the other end of the phone. "Honestly I don't know if I would have, but the amount of time I spent cleaning my gun, it wasn't healthy. You were right when you said I missed the war. I missed the excitement, I missed the adrenaline rushing through my veins, protecting people. The worst was that I felt so lonely, so out of contact with people that I didn't think anyone would miss me. I didn't connect with anyone anymore. Not until I met your brother. Honestly, Mike recognising me and talking to me, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Meeting Sherlock changed my life, he saved me in all the ways that a man can be saved. There was a connection from the beginning and I think you saw that, even if I did deny it at the time."

"Ah yes, I do recall asking if there would be a happy announcement by the end of the week. I don't believe it took even that long, the end of the study in pink case I believe."

"Yeah, I think it took both of us by surprise, but I have never regretted it. Sherlock is the best thing to ever happen to me."

"You're the best thing for him as well John, I've seen it. He's a changed person since meeting you. Before Greg I would have said that love was your greatest weakness, but now I see that it is also your greatest strength. Without your love, neither of you would be where we are today." John smiled taking everything Mycroft had said in. He was glad that his brother in law appreciated how much he loved Sherlock.

"So how was he when he left?" John asked.

"Worried, I think he's a bit nervous about how you're going to react. I also wanted to tell you that without your prompt call with the information, his condition would have been much worse than it was."

So this was it, time to see how much Mycroft had figured out.

"How much do you know?" he asked nervously.

"Know? I don't know for certain but I have an idea. 3CW, that's your code name isn't it?"

John closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. Two years and the time had finally come for explanations, time to reveal his secrets. Honestly, it would be a massive weight off his shoulders.

"Yes."

"Ah, but of course, how could I miss it. So obvious. Three Continents Watson wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but not for the reason's that you may think."

"How is it possible that you were an MI6 agent? I have looked over the files repeatedly. It's not in your dossier and there are no records anywhere of your involvement." John chuckled darkly.

"Well there wouldn't be, would there. My records were wiped." He could hear Mycroft splutter in surprise. It made him feel oddly proud.

"But they only do that when… you were a candidate for a 00 position? But how?"

"Yeah I was about two years in the army when they approached me. How could I turn down an offer like that? So I accepted and went into the training programme. Met a few good guys there, James being one of them. When the position came up me, James and another candidate where chosen for a mission to retrieve information, an UC agent had already been captured. However when we got there it turned into a FUBAR situation. The UC had been badly injured and as a Doctor I couldn't leave him to die. I told the others to carry on and complete the mission. Luckily the mission was a success and the UC lived, although he never fully recovered from his injury. I think it's called dereliction of duty, but because I saved the life of the UC agent they released me back to the army, wiped all my records. It was like I was never there. James of course felt that it was unjustified, but I was happy, and he got the 00 position, told me if I ever needed help, all I had to do was ring."

"James, James…Your friends with 007?" John laughed.

"Yeah we still meet up for a drink when he's in the country. He's been a good friend and has helped me a lot over the last two years. Most of the info I got was from him, he was keeping an eye out on Sherlock for me, got me some equipment from Q. Of course nothing happens that M doesn't know about so she temporarily reinstated me."

"Impressive work John, I would never had suspected it from you."

"That's the point, I don't look dangerous, but I am a soldier. People forget that, they just see the Doctor part. That was Moran's mistake," he said darkly.

"I saw your work, it was very good. What I can't work out though is why you went after him? Surely you knew that Sherlock would get him."

"Moran was the reason I left Baker Street. I recognised him in the crime scene photos in Sherlock's file. I knew that he'd be after me, so I made the decision to leave."

"But he thought Sherlock was dead, he wouldn't need to go after you. So why did you put yourself in danger?"

"Moran never leaves a job unfinished, and he's got brilliant aim. With Moriarty dead he would have felt compelled to kill me. I had no inclination to go after him, not until I found out that he had been following me. I couldn't … I couldn't let him know where I lived, there was too much to lose. I … I couldn't lose them." John could hear his voice breaking. Even now it scared him how close Moran had gotten. "If he'd found out … if he'd known, he would have used them against me, you, Sherlock. I did what I had to, I protected my family. I killed a murderer and I will never regret his death Mycroft," he finished softly. There was silence from the other end of the phone as Mycroft took in all the information that John had told him.

"You were … when …" he stuttered. John almost laughed, God he thought, he'd finally broken Mycroft.

"Yeah about three months actually," he informed him. He heard Mycroft exhale shakily.

"I… if I'd known, I'd have never …"

"No-one knew, just me. I did the tests myself at work. I found out just before Moriarty resurfaced. I wanted to tell him, but I didn't want to distract him from the case. There was never the right moment. Then he was gone."

"How…"

"How'd I get through it? I had two very good friends. They were there for when I needed them the most. They helped me through everything. Getting situated, keeping me from being bored, and most importantly they were both there helping me give birth."

"Gregory and Ms Hooper I assume?"

"I asked them to meet me at Baker Street after we had sorted the surveillance issue out. I explained everything to them, and Molly helped to confirm that Sherlock was in fact alive. Although she was pretty angry on my behalf because of course, she didn't know me and Sherlock were married and obviously pregnant. I think my marriage was the one thing that Greg didn't find shocking. Apparently there's a big bet that he's going to win when we eventually go public. Once they were both fully informed I had their help leaving Baker Street, I needed somewhere safe where no-one could find me, not even you Mycroft. I needed to protect my children, their everything to me."

"Children? As in more than one?" John laughed.

"Yeah, twins. That was a surprise believe you me."

"But that …"

"Impossible. I know, but since when do either myself or Sherlock stick to the boundaries of normal. Its' beyond our capabilities to even be normal." Mycroft chuckled.

"Never. I still don't fully understand how this is possible. You don't have the male carrier gene. It would have been in your file."

"That's what confused me too. I went for the normal tests when I was younger but I was informed that I wasn't a carrier. I assumed someone had made a mistake with the test results."

"Have you asked your parents about the subject?" John's face clouded over at the mention of his parents.

"I haven't spoken to them since I informed them of my intentions to marry your brother." He told Mycroft coldly. "And I have no want or need to contact them ever again." Mycroft coughed awkwardly.

"I will look into this for you John, you have my word. I would not make you contact your parents if that is what you wish. Sherlock had indeed informed me that they were unhappy with your choice in partner, but I didn't realise that the negativity between you was this bad."

"Yeah, well they weren't happy when Harry came out, I was supposed to be the perfect son. Of course going into the Army didn't exactly make them happy, but we still spoke occasionally. After hearing what they had to say about Sherlock, well I'm happy to never speak with them again. I still have Harry, she rings me once a week to chat, make sure that I'm ok. She doesn't know about any of this though."

"I understand John. I assume that you will be looking to return to Baker Street?"

"That was the plan. I know there's a lot of stuff I'm going to have to talk to Sherlock about. The lab in the kitchen being one of them. I was thinking of asking him if he wouldn't mind having it down in 221C, I still want him to be able to do his experiments, he wouldn't be Sherlock without them, but it wouldn't be a good idea upstairs where the kids will be."

"It will be taken care of John, I will ensure that Baker Street is set up for your return."

"Thank you Mycroft," he said softly.

"It is of no inconvenience John, they are my nephews after all." He paused and then groaned. "Oh I just had a thought, Mummy's going to be sickening!" This caused John to laugh. "She's always wanted grandkids, of course she was most disappointed to find out that both her sons were not interested in the more delicate flesh."

"I'm sure she'll be ecstatic then. The kids should at least have one set of grandparents. After raising you two I'm sure mine will be easy," he joked.

"John, I wanted to say thank you." This caused John to frown.

"What for?"

"My brother has never been an easy person to get on with, he always got into the worst of trouble and I was always bailing him out. I worried about him, constantly. He has you now though, and I find myself taking a step backwards, because that is all he has ever needed. You." John's eyes teared up.

"I do love Sherlock, and your right he's not an easy person to live with, but mainly he's just misunderstood. He's not the same as normal people, they don't understand him. Luckily I'm pretty good at translating Holmes. He doesn't have to say anything, it's all in his actions."

"Yes he always was the emotional sort, although he hides it quite well. No one saw it until you though. His conductor of light he would say. He'll be with you soon John."

"How much do you think he will have deduced before he gets here?" John asked.

"Most, if not all of it. I tend to try not to underestimate my brother. The children however will be a definite surprise."

"A good surprise?" John asked worriedly, biting his lip.

"You're worried that he will not accept them."

"It's not something we ever discussed, it never came up."

"I will admit to not knowing how he will react. He'll be shocked for certain, but they are a part of you John, how could he not love them. Things will work out John, I promise."

"Thanks Mycroft, for looking after him, for going to get him. If I could've …"

"You would have gone, I understand John why you couldn't, and so will Sherlock. I'm afraid I must go now, Gregory will be here momentarily and I believe a chat is long overdue."

"Don't be too hard on him Mycroft, I can't have both my children's godfathers not talking to each other."

"Godfather?"

"Yes, you, Greg, Molly and Mrs. H. I chose the people I trust the most. That is if you accept."

"I…I do accept John. I … thankyou. I thoroughly look forward to meeting them. What have you named them?"

John told him.

"I believe that Sherlock will have no problems with either of their names. Anyway I must go, I believe that Gregory will be proposing tonight." John laughed.

"Of course you know. Can you just pretend that you don't, the poor blokes terrified enough as it is."

"I will endeavour to try my best John. I will leave you to your reunion with Sherlock. Do try not to knock his stitches too much." John blushed.

"Goodbye Mycroft."

The call ended, and John breathed out a sigh of relief. The call had gone better than he'd expected. He'd never heard Mycroft so emotional, or as flustered as he had been. It was an entirely enjoyable sensation knowing that he had been the root cause of it.

He sighed, hoping that Mycroft didn't give Greg too much of a hard time, he'd been a good and loyal friend over the last two years. He had supplied him with cases on bad days, and they kept him from being too bored. He was ok when he was running around after the kids, but the quiet was, quiet. It was boring. It was frustrating. He understood what Sherlock had meant when he said he was bored now, it was maddening.

A soft knock on the door made his heart stop.

Sherlock

 **I don't own James Bond either but I couldn't put that at the top other wise it would have given it away!**

 **So what did you think, any good? Please leave a review with your thoughts.**

 **Until next time**


	7. Chapter 7

**So here it is, the long awaited chapter of Sherlock and John's reunion, here there be smut! Warnings for m/m. If you don't like don't read!**

 **This is my first attempt at writing smut so I apologise if it's not very good.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock**

Chapter 7

 _Sherlock_

The car journey had been too long, all he wanted was to have John in his arms, to breathe him in. To tell him how sorry he was, to tell him how much he loved him, how much he missed him. The length of the journey however had left with time to analyse all the information that he had taken in from his and Mycroft's conversation, and had quickly come to one stunning conclusion. John was the MI6 agent that had killed Moran, Mycroft had said the agent's code name was 3CW – three continents Watson. With there being no files on him led to the realisation that his files must have been erased. Conclusion, John had once been in the running for a high ranking position, but something must have occurred for him to be send back to the army. He also must still have contacts in MI6 to receive the information he'd had, along with the evidence required to prove his innocence. Once again his John had surprised him. He had hoped that John would be smart enough to figure things out once he had gotten past the initial stages of shock and grief. He had worried though after reading his husbands last blog. To know that he may never have met John had scared him, and he had Mike Stamford to thank for that. He had introduced them, never knowing how much that had changed both of their lives.

As the car slowed down, pulling into the drive Sherlock began to panic. What would he say? What if John didn't want to see him, had moved on? His phone buzzed indicating a new text.

 **Calm down**

 **He loves you**

 **Go see your Husband. MH**

Sherlock breathed out, calming himself. John loved him. He quickly got out of the car and pulled his collar up. Shutting the door to the car he looked up at the quaint unassuming country house. It looked so… normal. At the end of the drive he spotted a movers truck, recently parked. Did that mean John was packing up to leave, to return to Baker Street? The thought excited him and he found himself walking quickly towards the front door. Taking a deep breath he softly knocked on the door.

 _John_

Sherlock was here. After all this time, he'd finally made it back to him. He almost ran to the front door, before ripping it open.

Sherlock

It had been so long since he'd seen his husband, he looked thinner, obviously not eating right. He ran his eyes over his husbands form, taking in the same high cheekbones, bow shaped lips, same Belstaff coat with the collar up just the way he liked it. His Sherlock, his consulting detective. He felt himself drinking in the sight that he had been deprived of for so long. He re-familiarised himself with his husband.

"John." Sherlock's deep baritone voice made him shiver with just the sound of his name being said softly. He slowly reached his hand forward, making contact with the side of Sherlock's face. He could feel the warmth from the skin, and then there were tears rolling down his face. He was crying, because he was here, really here. He could see Sherlock's eyes assessing him, trying to figure out what to do. He made it easy for him. With one hand on his cheek, his other came up to grab the front of his coat, bringing him lips towards his own. And oh, how he missed this, missed kissing those perfect lips, and then Sherlock was kissing him back, and Johns hands moved up to his hair, whilst Sherlock's hands ran up and down John's body, sending shivers of arousal through him.

 _Sherlock_

John was kissing him. John still loved him. Oh god how he had missed this, missed having John in his arms, missed kissing him. He ran his hands along John's sides, taking in the differences in his husband's body. The slight weight gain, the shivers of arousal going through him as he gripped his hips. He watched John pull away, looking at him with fully dilated eyes the amount of lust, want and need unmeasurable. He was sure that if he looked in a mirror, he would see the same reflected back in his eyes. It had been too long since they had last been together.

This time he leant in for a kiss, arms still wrapped around each other. It started soft before pushing John forward, lips still connected, closing the door behind him with his foot. The tables turned and he found himself thrust up against the door as John kissed him, their tongues battling for dominance. He could feel John's arousal through his jeans, and more of his blood disappeared down south, causing further stains on his own erection. Oh God, he needed more, more friction. He growled against John's mouth thrusting upwards causing both men to cry out.

 _Both_

"Bedroom," John muttered before grabbing Sherlock's hand, pulling him up the stairs and into his bedroom at the end of the hall. As they entered, mouths reconnected, though their hands were not idle. Articles of clothing were being flung around the room, in a haste to feel bare skin against bare skin. As soon as they were naked both moaned, appreciating something that neither had felt in two years. The kissing slowed down as hands found their way across each other's bodies, mapping them with fingertips, reclaiming that which had been gone for the last twenty four months.

Sherlock's mouth broke from John's, moving his lips down to his neck as his hands massaged the cheeks of John's arse. John groaned, tightening the hold that his hands had in Sherlock's hair.

"Oh God. I need you Sherlock, I need you inside me!" Sherlock moaned at Johns words. He brought his lips back to Johns and continued kissing with a new frenzy. He slowly walked them both to the bed until they fell backwards, lips still connected as they fell onto the soft duvet. John thrust up against Sherlock, searching out friction for his hard cock.

"John, oh God John," Sherlock moaned, as both lengths rubbed together, pre-come spreading between them. It was too much and not enough all at once. Sherlock disconnected his lips from Johns and stared down at him with a questioning gaze. John seeing the hazy desire in his husbands eyes, turned to reach the bedside drawer to get the bottle of lube that he had stashed there. He turned back over, depositing the bottle into Sherlock's hand. He raised his head to gently kiss Sherlock on the lips before settling himself back on the bed. Sherlock grinned before squeezing some of the lube onto his fingers. He gently reached down to John's hole, circling the perineum causing John to moan, before slipping in a finger inside. Oh God, he was tight, it reminded Sherlock of their first time, making Sherlock's cock throb with need as he remembered. As he moved his single digit in and out, he slowly kissed down John's body, watching as he shivered with each touch of his lips against skin. He finally reached his goal, licking his lips at the sight of John's erect penis, already dripping with pre-come. He flicked his tongue out, tasting John. He looked up to see John's eyes on him, desire clearly shown on his face. He gave a lick up the underside of Johns cock, causing John to moan in pleasure. Then he fully impaled himself on Johns cock at the same time as slipping another finger into John's hole causing John to arch up off the bed, moaning Sherlock's name loudly. He used his fingers to stretch his husband as his mouth moved up and down on John's cock, ripples of pleasure coursing through John's body.

"Oh God, Sherlock! Fuck me Sherlock, I need your cock in me," John yelled as Sherlock's fingers pressed against his prostate.

Sherlock moaned at Johns words, and quickly removed his fingers, causing John to feel empty. Sherlock quickly squeezed out some more lube and slicked his cock up, before positioning himself before John's entrance. He slowly pushed in, both of them groaning at the feeling. John's muscles pulled him in further, until finally Sherlock was fully sheaved in John. Their foreheads met and hands grasped. They started to move against each other, losing themselves in the rhythm of their lovemaking. John reached up and pulled Sherlock in for a crushing kiss, tongues plundering each other's mouths as their coupling became more frantic.

"I missed you so much Sherlock," John panted out, his heart fit to burst with the amount of love he felt for his husband above him.

"Oh John, I thought about you every day," he gasped, each gasp punctuated with a hard thrust that hit John's prostate each time. "I wanted to come home, I wanted to come back to you so much, but I needed to finish it. I needed you safe."

They were both close, and were moving against each other, loud moans and gasps filling the room as they reaffirmed their love.

"Oh God, Sherlock. I'm close," John cried as Sherlock repeatedly pounded into him. Sherlock kissed John as he continued thrusting into John, feeling the tingling feeling in his spine that was telling him how close he was. Sherlock moved his hand in between them and started stroking John's cock in time with his thrusts. Both men were sweating now as they neared their completion.

"Cum with me John, cum for me," he whispered into Johns ear. The next moment John came with a loud cry of 'Sherlock', and the clamping down of his muscles around Sherlock's own cock instigated his own release.

"John," he cried out, thrusting through his orgasm, John's passage milking him of his seed.

As they each came down from their high they wrapped arms around each other, revelling in the closeness of the moment, soft kisses being exchanged.

"I'm home John. I'm home," he whispered.

 **Yay their back together again. I love a good Johnlock reunion. Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**So here we are, the penultimate chapter. Sherlock finally finds out what he missed, and you guys finally find out the names of their children, I know I've been evil withholding their names but you'll know when Sherlock does.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't forget to leave reviews, they make me feel all warm and fuzzy.**

 **I don't own Sherlock**

Chapter 8 

The two men lay in bed, holding each other after their lovemaking, basking in the knowledge that they were together again. Sherlock's fingers were tracing designs on John's skin.

"You know, I've dreamt of this moment for the entire two years I was away," Sherlock said, breaking the comfortable silence that had enveloped them. "It was, at times the only thing that made me carry on. I thought that all the pain would be worth it if you were safe, that I had you to come back to."

John grabbed Sherlock's hand and squeezed it.

"I know, and I both loved you and hated you for it," John confessed.

"I couldn't bare it to see you hurt, as Moriarty put it, you're my heart. If anything happened to you, I wouldn't have been able to carry on John. I realise that you were hurt anyway, my leaving hurt you worse than anything. You left Baker Street because you didn't feel safe, and you couldn't trust Mycroft. Then Moran came after you anyway, even when he thought I was dead. He broke script." John rolled over so he was facing Sherlock and their eyes met.

"Sherlock, Moran was a dangerous man. Yes he followed Moriarty's lead, but he doesn't give up a job ever. He's an extremely good sniper, and I would know." Sherlock looked at him, deducing what he knew. John watched as his eye's widened as he worked it out. "Yes, he was the one that shot my shoulder, although he didn't recognise me as I was pretty wrapped up in a scarf to keep the dust out of my face. If things had gone differently that day, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be here now." Sherlock's arms tightened around John, as if to make sure he wasn't going anywhere.

"What happened?"

"We were ambushed, my team were waiting for extraction. I remember that I had stumbled slightly from a stone, and then I remember being in unimaginable pain. I remember falling to the ground and Murray was dragging me behind cover, staunching the blood flow. He had to dig the bullet out. That's when I said it."

"Please God, let me live." Sherlock finished. John nodded.

"I thank God every day that I stumbled on that rock because if I hadn't, the bullet would have gone straight through my heart, I wouldn't be here. I never would have met you. So yes, I knew what Moran was like, but I also knew that this was my battle, this was something I had to do. Do you understand?" Sherlock nodded, pressing a kiss to John forehead. "When I figured out what you had done, and why you had done it, I understood Sherlock. I knew why, and yes to begin with I was so angry at you, and upset, and damn right furious. You lied to me, and made me watch and I blamed myself. It took me two weeks to be rational enough to put everything together, but in those two weeks I hated myself, I blamed myself so much. I would have given anything for you to come back, to walk through the door like nothing happened. Since I found out I've had a long time to come to terms with it, I know you probably expected to get punched," Sherlock chuckled.

"I was expecting you to scream and shout, definitely throw at least one punch," he admitted.

"I've had two years to adjust, to think about what I was going to do when I saw you again, so no, I'm not mad. I love you and missed you too much to be mad at you." He gave Sherlock a small kiss on the lips.

"I should have told you, I wanted you by my side the entire time I was away. I would turn around to tell you something, and you weren't there. I wanted you to stay safe, but I wanted, more than anything to have you by my side. Thinking back on it, with your service history you would have been an asset to have with me."

"So you figured that part out. Honestly it was a period in my life a long time ago. I don't regret any of it, but it's not my life anymore. James has been a great help keeping me informed on your whereabouts. The equipment from Q helps too." He paused. "You have no idea how much I wanted to run to your side, to just jump on a plane and turn up on your doorstep, give you hell for leaving me behind. Thing is I couldn't. Even if you had told me, asked me, begged me to come with you. I wouldn't have been able to," John said softly, running his hand though Sherlock's hair. He felt Sherlock still and look up at him.

"But why…" John sighed and interrupted him.

"What can you deduce about the house that I chose to stay in Sherlock?" They locked eyes before Sherlock sat up, back against the headboard of the bed. He immediately went into his thinking pose, steepled hands against his lips. God, it had been so long since he'd seen that familiar sight, and John loved seeing it once again. Sherlock finally spoke.

"The outside of the house is kept warm and inviting, it's what most people would picture as the ideal house, picket white fence included. However the moving van outside indicates that it's not the perfect house for you. You're using it as a cover. The inside of the house is kept tidy and clean in concordance with your military background, everything has its place. You had a lot of pictures on the wall in the living room, they were the first thing you packed away, so they were important to you. Pictures of friends and family then. Now the house has three bedrooms. You correctly assumed that nobody would be looking for you in a house, they would assume you'd go for an apartment. Two of the rooms are in constant use, the third used for guests. So this room and the room next door are slept in but no-one is there now, so there was somebody who needed your protection, that's why the room next to yours and not the room at the end of the hall. You wanted them close by so you could protect them but they're not here now, so they no longer need protecting, or they've left to give you time to reconnect to me. Your close to them, knew this person before the fall, but I don't know them." It had been a long time since hearing Sherlock deduce something, and it was still as amazing as it was the first time he'd seen him do it.

"Still turns me on when you do that," he chuckled, and Sherlock looked down at him eyes darkening with desire. "Yes your right, there is somebody else staying here."

"Who is it?" Sherlock asked curiously. John smiled.

"Why don't you go take a look, and you tell me." Sherlock looked at him, trying to figure out what John was tell him. John gave him a bright smile, then watched as Sherlock bounced of the bed. "Dressing gowns on the back of the door," he informed him. John stretched and then got out of bed himself, putting on the second dressing gown. He'd made sure there were always two, ready for Sherlock's return. He followed his husband out of the room and watched as he slowly entered the kid's room. He leant against the door post waiting for Sherlock to say something. He was currently frozen in the middle of the room, staring at the double crib that was against the wall next to John's room. He suddenly unfroze and spun around to stare at John.

"This is a child's room John. I … I don't understand." John smiled at him before walking forward and wrapping his arms around his slightly lost looking husband.

"I wanted to tell you, you know. I was kind of hoping you'd deduce it to be honest. You always seem everything, but the thing I wanted you to see most of all, you missed entirely. I assumed that it was because you were so busy dealing with Moriarty, but I really wanted to tell you, I just never got the chance. Finding out you were still alive, it was everything I wanted, and a really big part of me wanted to go after you, the soldier part of me wanted more than anything wanted to be a part of the plan. I couldn't though, I couldn't risk them, and they needed me more than you did. Putting myself at risk would endanger them, it was something that I couldn't, wouldn't do."

"How far along?" Sherlock whispered, his hands trailing down to John's stomach, his eyes suspiciously bright.

"Three months."

"How did I miss…?"

"Well for one, neither of us thought it was possible, and two, you were dealing with Moriarty, you had more than enough on your plate. I should have told you though," John finished quietly, eyes downcast. He felt Sherlock's fingers on his face and his eyes rose to meet those of his husband who shook his head, a smile on his face. He gently leaned down to place a kiss on John's lips.

"I know why you didn't, and it was the right thing to do. Moriarty would have used that against me if he'd found out. I'm also glad that I didn't know, it would have made leaving even harder than it already was." John felt his eyes well up with emotion, Sherlock didn't hate him for not telling him. "When can I meet them?" At those words, the tears rolled down John's face. He wanted to meet them, he really wanted to see them, their children. Sherlock was smiling down at him, aware of the thoughts running through John's head. He wiped away John's tears with his thumb, stroking the sides of his face gently.

John felt like everything that he had ever dreamt about was coming true.

"Their staying at Molly's tonight, said I'd text her when we were ready for her to drop them back to me. I wanted the chance to explain, give you time to think about it, adjust."

"I…I want to meet them, but I… I don't really know how to be a dad. What if I'm no good, what if they hate me? I've already missed so much of their lives," Sherlock said worriedly. John shook his head.

"They won't. They already love you." He stepped away from Sherlock and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the room and back into his bedroom. "I knew that when you came back you'd feel like you had missed too much of their lives so between myself, Molly and Greg, we've been putting a photo album and DVD together. Molly's going to bring it over tomorrow, apparently they've got some finishing touches to put to it. I do have one picture here though." He let go of Sherlock's hand as they entered his room and went to grab his wallet. Opening it up, he removed a photograph and handed it to Sherlock. The photo showed John holding two small boys on his lap. Both boys had Sherlock's dark curly locks and cheekbones. Their eyes matched those of John, as did their lips and ears. They looked perfect. Sherlock grinned and pulled his husband close to him.

"They look like us. What names did you decide on?" he asked.

"William and Alexander Holmes." Sherlock stared at the picture for a bit longer, his heart full of emotions, love, pride and happiness. Family. His family. He leaned down and kissed John.

"Thank you John. I never imagined I would have this, a … family. They look perfect John, your perfect. My one and only conductor of light. I didn't think it was possible to love you anymore than I already did, but you continue to surprise me Dr Watson."

"That's Dr Watson-Holmes to you," John grinned before pushing his husband onto the bed and kissing him, hands making quick work at removing the dressing gowns they were both wearing.

This was their happy ever after. They'd faced the demon's and won, had been kept apart, each going down a different path, but those paths had finally met again and now they had the future to look forward to. Soon they'd be back at Baker Street, back with Mrs Hudson, raising the twins, back getting cases from Greg, running through London. Things were moving again and neither man could be happier with their ending, because it wasn't really an ending, it was a beginning. A brand new life. The game as Sherlock would say, was on.

 **Just one more chapter to go, the epilogue. Please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**So here we are, 30 pages and 17k words later we are finally at the end. I honestly have no idea how it manged to get this big. It started as such a small idea but expanded into something much bigger.**

 **I really hope you've enjoyed reading this, I've definitely enjoyed writing it.**

 **I'm planning on writing some one shots that will be in this universe so keep an eye out for them.**

 **Here for your reading pleasure, the final chapter, the epilogue.**

Epilogue

6 Months Later

There had been long discussions whilst holding each other closely, and even longer periods of time where they actively showed their love, each one expressing their feelings for each other in the passionate time that they spent, joined as one. They had discussed both the past and the future, knowing that they both wanted the exact same thing.

After, things had returned to normal, or relatively normal for them at least. The one thing that stood out the most though was Sherlock's reaction to meeting the twins. It would forever be etched into John's mind. He saw the nervous and worried look slip off his face, and was replaced by a look of awe and love, that they had managed to create these children, that they were a part of both John and Sherlock. In that moment Sherlock had never looked so beautiful to John.

They had eventually moved back into Baker Street, and Mycroft had certainly outdone himself in the redecoration of the flat. The kitchen had been designated a clean area, Sherlock's lab permanently moved to the flat downstairs, along with the fridge and microwave. Sherlock's idea had been to get rid of the lab entirely, as he was wary of causing damage to their children, but John just kissed him and told him to never change. John knew that he would need his lab for when he got bored, as he inevitably would and informed him that he and Mycroft had discussed it and that there would be a surprise for Sherlock when they arrived. One look into the new lab and Sherlock was undeniably lost without words. His John understood him, where nobody else did. He had thanked John quite enthusiastically for that.

John's old room had been entirely redecorated, painted a pale blue with bees painted in great detail around the walls. The double cot sat against the far wall, and a wooden trunk full of children's toys was next to it. John was also sure that Mycroft had surveillance in the room too, but he couldn't help but be grateful for it, at least their uncle Mycroft could keep an eye on them. John had thanked Mycroft for his input into the renovation, and Sherlock had been entirely pleasant towards him since, which meant that he didn't mention the failed diets anymore.

When John had opened the front door of 221B Baker Street, Mrs Hudson had appeared and pulled him in for a crushing hug, telling him how much she had missed him and how worried she had been. Of course Sherlock's arrival with the two baby carriers had entirely shocked her, although the presence of the babies had distracted her from what John thought, would have been a long talking to. She had cooed over them, keeping them well occupied as John and Sherlock, with the help of Greg and Molly moved John's belongings back into the flat. Finally John felt that he was finally home.

Things weren't all sunshine and daisies though, real life never is. They dealt with the overwhelming amount of nightmares that both men had to endure, Sherlock's about his time 'dead', about the lives he had taken, about his capture. John's were still about the fall, or finding out the Sherlock had died on his mission. These dreams caused them to both wake up, drenched with sweat a fair few times the first couple of weeks. When it happened the other would pull them close together, hands stroking hair to help calm, until they fell asleep again. Eventually the nightmares started to taper off and both were able to get decent amounts of sleep, the wounds in their bodies and minds gradually healing.

Sherlock adapted to being a dad rather well. Of course in sure Sherlockian way, he had researched parenthood on the laptop until he had panicked to John. John had brushed his concerns away and told him that the best way was to just love them, everything else would come naturally. Sherlock was a doting father to his boys, and enjoyed playing with them when they demanded it. Both Alex and William were as smart as their father, but they had the compassion of their mother, as Greg would say. They were, in all ways, the best parts of the two men.

On the day that Sherlock and John had reunited, Greg had finally proposed, (Mycroft had faked the surprise!) and Mycroft had happily accepted. The wedding was due to occur in a week's time and the boys were extremely excitable at the moment. Having not long turned two, they were extremely adorable and always full of energy, bouncing around the flat just like their father in the excitement of a case. Greg and Mycroft had chosen them to be their pageboys and their little suits were hung up, ready for the day. Greg had asked John to be his best man, whilst Mycroft had asked Sherlock, who, surprisingly accepted without being blackmailed into it. Something had changed within the brother's dynamic, but it was a change for the better.

Mummy Holmes was organising the whole ordeal, something that she delighted in. She had been most disappointed to find out that she had missed her youngest getting married, but she and John had been secretly planning to have a renewal of their vows in front of family and friends on their next anniversary. John's first meeting with the Holmes matriarch had gone surprisingly well. John had been rather nervous about meeting her, sure that she would believe her son too good for him. Instead he had been pleasantly surprised at how easily they connected, they immediately fell into comfortable conversation and Sherlock could not have been happier. He knew his mother would love John, it was impossible not to. His mother was also extremely happy to meet the twins. She absolutely adored them as did his father. They both doted on the boys had grandparents do, and soon after they set up a visiting arrangement which satisfied both parties. The twin would get to spend time with their grandparents, and Sherlock and John would be able to have some alone time without the worry of their children in the next room. Something they definitely took advantage of, usually requesting Greg not to contact them unless in an emergency.

Harry had also become a welcome part of their lives. She and Clara had been back together since Sherlock had left, and was still sober after all this time. She had been a bit put out that John hadn't told her about her nephews, but had forgiven him immediately after hearing the full story. She had pulled her brother into a crushing hug, he was her younger brother and she felt like she had failed to protect him. The brief mention of their parents had both siblings pausing for a moment, the sting of being unwanted causing them both pain. Their respective partners had recognised this in them and had helped steer the conversation onto better subjects.

John was brought out of his thoughts of the last six months by the ringing of Sherlock's phone. He hoped to God that it was Greg with a case. Both he, and Sherlock had been itching for a case for days. He loved being a mother, loved caring for his children, but he also loved the thrill of the chase, of helping Sherlock with his deductions, the high that they could only get after solving a case. He watched as Sherlock hung up and a gleeful look covered his face.

"Finally," he shouted, bouncing around like an excited five year old. John grinned, soon the twins would be overtaking Sherlock, in his mental age at least.

"Case?" he questioned. Sherlock nodded and smirked at him, seeing the excitement in John's eyes. John quickly got out of the chair and called down to Mrs Hudson. She appeared shortly at the doorway, a light dancing in her eyes as she took in the excited air in the flat.

"Oooh, a case boys?" she asked. John nodded.

"Anthea should be here soon, are you ok to watch them until she gets here?" he asked as he slipped his jacket on.

"Of course, you know how much I love the little angels, they're a lot easier to deal with than you two, that's for certain. At least they don't shoot my walls!" John laughed and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks Mrs H. You're the best." He said before quickly running upstairs to check on the boys. Both were having their afternoon naps so John quickly placed a soft kiss on both their heads before slipping quietly out of the room. He made it downstairs and answered Sherlock's questioning look with one of his own, letting him know that they were ok and still asleep. They quickly made their way down the stairs and to the front door. Before he opened the door, Sherlock leant down to kiss John, it was just a brief touch of their lips, but it was all they needed. Then they were out the door and into the street, getting into a taxi that Sherlock had managed to stop, ready to go on their next adventure.

 _The door of 221B Baker Street closed behind the two men. A well-known address that was the last refuge for the desperate, the unloved and the persecuted. The final court of appeal for everyone. When life gets too strange, too impossible, too frightening, there is always one last hope. When all else fails, there are two men sitting in a flat, like they've always been there and always will. The Baker Street Boys_

 _Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson_

The End

 **Thank you for reading. Please leave reviews with your thoughts, I'd love to know what your thinking.**


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